


Artificial Heart

by EruditExperimenter, TheMonsterGhost, ZeNami



Series: Saboteur [1]
Category: Desert Bluffs - Fandom, StrexCorp - Fandom, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Abduction, Android, Androids, Body Horror, Cybernetics, Drugging, Drugs, Gen, Multi, Other, Surgery, Transformation, biomachine, cyborg, drug, nonconsensual drug use, orgran transplant, surgical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 01:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2410541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EruditExperimenter/pseuds/EruditExperimenter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMonsterGhost/pseuds/TheMonsterGhost, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeNami/pseuds/ZeNami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A visit to StrexCorp doesn't go as planned, and Jake Lin finds working as Marcus Vansten's Personal Assistant can come with occupational hazards he could never anticipate</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jake set aside the entire day in order to focus on procuring the deeds to the abandoned Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area. Marcus wanted to buy up Night Vale property in order to keep it owned by the citizens of Night Vale and not, say, an evil mega-corporation. Jake was going to make sure that happened. It was hit-or-miss on whether or not Jake actually supported the endeavors of his employer for the most part but this  was personal. He meant to see it through that Vanstenland, or whatever the hell they decided to call it, would be built and stand as a huge middle finger to Strexcorp.

It would say,  _Yes, we own this town. No, we’re not going to stop having fun because you’re here. We’re going to take a day off work and splash around in imported ocean water in the middle of the desert.  Fuck you_.  Perhaps it would literally say this. Plated in gold at the front gates under a statue of a giant middle finger. 

Much to his disgust and horror, once he arrived to the plot of land, there were already yellow construction machines in place. They weren’t moving but the giant, orange triangles on their sides said everything. There was a small hut outside the working zone and Jake took long strides right up to the door.

He was greeted by an eyeless foreman who informed him that StrexCorp had placed a hold on the land.  Money was getting passed around, figures were being discussed, but construction crews were already preparing to turn the dusty and desolate recreation area into a place of work. “New jobs,” he kept saying, “Jobs for _everyone_.”

And it was going to be a stretch but Jake knew enough about business and money to know that there was still time to strike a deal. Strex was all about making money and Vansten had the money to get them listening.  Of course, he knew it would be more than Marcus originally intended to spend, but it was the principle of the matter that made the idea worth its weight in gold, wasn’t it?  He would have liked to discuss it with Marcus first but there was no time to wait for an angel to answer his phone calls.  He jumped right into his car and made his way to StrexCorp headquarters.  Or, at least, one of their headquarters.

"I’d like to discuss ownership of the deeds to the Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area," he explained to the front desk.  "Mr. Vansten happens to be interested in the land and would like to make a deal. I’m Jake Lin, his assistant and current representative. I’m sure you can find time to schedule an appointment with me before anything is settled. We’re prepared to be rather generous."

"Of course," the eyeless receptionist replied, smiling broadly.  "Allow me to relay the message to my superiors.  I’m sure they’d be intrigued by what your employer would have to offer."  Gesturing to a collection of chairs and magazine-topped coffee tables in the lobby with one hand, he lifted the other to activate a headset.  "Have a seat, Mr. Lin.  I’ll let you know what we can do for you."

A white-noise generator obscured the receptionist’s conversation, and there was little in the way of variation of expression to clue Jake in on how his presence and desire to negotiate was being taken; nothing but smiles and shadow-pooled sockets.  Presently, however, the man behind the desk turned his gaze toward the PA, beckoning him forward.

"Apparently you said the magic words, Mr. Lin!" the fellow chuckled.   "As it happens, there’s time to see you immediately!  How about that?  I’ve been instructed to take you to one of our conference rooms to have a chat with a representative.  Shall we go?"

Rising from his spot, the receptionist gestured toward a corridor leading further back into the facility.  While their tone was amicable, there was a definite undercurrent that suggested this wasn’t so much an invitation as an order.

That tone didn’t go unnoticed. Jake was hawk-like in that matter; not much went unnoticed under his sharp stare and sharper wits. But it all stayed under his cool facade. The bristling anger at being spoken down to by anyone other than Marcus, the disturbing chill of making eye contact with people who didn’t have eyes… it all stayed tucked away, perfectly hidden by his stone expression.

"They’re not magic words," he stated conversationally as he followed the receptionist down the hall, "They’re the most basic of marketing schemes. ‘ _Generous offer_ ,’ and ‘ _Marcus Vansten_.’ What more could anyone looking to make money want to hear?" He couldn’t help but make that subtle jab although he was careful to avoid saying, " _money-hungry asshats_."

As he entered the conference room, he smiled thinly at the receptionist. “And who doesn’t like to make money, right?”  That was a relatable statement used in order to cushion the blow of any possible offense.  A soft pillow for the bowling ball of a questionable remark to land on. “Have a good one.”

"Oh, indeed!  We’ve been rather interested in working with Mr. Vansten, however he’d been rather reticent about it.   My superior was so pleased to hear you’d come to talk with us.”

Giving Jake a last smile and nod, the receptionist gestured to a circular conference table emblazoned with the StrexCorp logo upon which rested a pitcher of water thick with orange slices, and small dish of sunny, yellow candies.  The door was closed behind him and he couldn’t help but notice a subtle pneumatic suction noise as it did so.  On the opposite of the room was another entrance, identical to the one through which he had come, and looking along the ceiling Jake could spy indications of surveillance equipment; black half-orbs likely housing cameras within.  Doubtless there was audio recording equipment, as well, and heaven only knows what else.  The room smelled faintly of citrus, bright but also artificially sweet.  The chairs arranged around the table were of a tasteful goldenrod upholstery and appeared quite comfortable.

After a time, the door opposite to the one through which Jake had come opened, a lithe figure in black and yellow stepping through.

"Mr. Lin.  It’s a pleasure to see you again."

Sergio Vega closed the door behind him, the same strange hissing noise emitting from the frame, crossing the room to meet Jake in an unhurried stride, extending a hand to shake.

"How are things going for you lately? You look well.”  Turning to the table, the re-educator poured them each a glass of water from the pitcher, sipping from his own before speaking again.  "I heard you wanted to speak with us concerning a possible business transaction, and I’m eager to hear what you have to propose.  Please, have a seat and let’s begin."

Jake hadn’t had the most comfortable conversation with Vega in the past but when was anything related to StrexCorp comfortable?  There was a certain air of disturbed fear to be expected when handling business with any and all StrexCorp employees.

It didn’t stop Jake from doing his job.  He shook Sergio’s hand firmly and accepted the water offered to him.  He took a customary sip before setting it down with little intention of picking it back up.

He did ignore the offer to sit, however.  Instead, he crossed his hands, one over the other just in front of his waist, and stood straight.  “The Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area,” he said, getting straight to business, “I understand that Strexcorp is currently in the process of attempting to purchase and repurpose the land. Mr. Vansten is interested in using the area as another one of his community-friendly projects. On behalf of my employer, I’d like to make the transaction simple for your company. We’d like to offer you a quick and easy settlement in exchange for the deeds and all responsibilities and fees that come with them. We’ll cover any money already spent on your endeavors on top of our offer…”

And Jake paused, eyes studying Sergio closely as he spoke.  There was a slight grimace on his face as he said, “I would appreciate it if you would forward that information to the correct staff as soon as possible.  No offense, Mr. Vega, but I recall with absolute certainty that you are the head of the…Re-education Department.  I don’t doubt that is a very taskful profession. However, I don’t see how that puts you in the position of reviewing any monetary transactions in regards to land ownership.”

He wondered whether he felt more offended or suspicious.  Were they really just throwing anyone who was around at him just so that someone could tell him ‘no’ or was there something else going on…?  Jake stood perfectly still, as always, but his face hinted to his distaste of the situation.

Though Jake chose to remain standing, Sergio took a seat, leisurely leaning back in the chair and watching the other with faint smile curling his lips.

"Rest assured, Mr. Lin, though my present and primary role is as head of Re-Education, the breadth and depth of my knowledge on how other aspects of the company operate is considerable.  I have been groomed for my place as Ricardo’s heir for time out of mind, and my mentor has never been one to do anything in half measures - and certainly not the tutelage of his protege.”

Eyes distant as if recalling a fond memory, he chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"Re-Education does demand that one have knowledge on a wide variety of topics, as well.   You really would not believe what comes in handy while going through a therapy session.”

He rocked forward, appearing to consider Jake’s proposition.  "Community-friendly projects," he echoed at length.  "What exactly would that entail, Mr. Lin?"

Proximity to the freshly poured water, the pitcher crowded with ice and citrus slices, seemed only to intensify the citron fragrance already scenting the room.

"If you’re permitted to speak of it.   I confess I’m curious as to what Mr. Vansten has in mind for the area."

Jake cocked a brow at that, moving his hands from in front to behind. They folded neatly against the small of his back as he cleared his throat. “Admittedly, I’m not particularly familiar with the chain of command of your company. Clearly.”  Then he shrugged, a physical acceptance of the pride he was shedding in order to admit, “I respect the amount of work you must have. And for the fact that you’d put that aside to see me personally. That in mind, I’ll try to make this quick.”

With that, he took a seat.  Even a broken clock could still have working gears. To show disrespect to each piece of a broken whole was foolish and wasteful. So he decided to try his best to not sour his relationship with Sergio on the grounds of his employer. After all, if one were to base assumptions of the employed off of the actions of their employer alone, Jake would be hard pressed for respect.

"Yes," said Jake, keeping steady eye-contact with Sergio as he spoke, "Mr. Vansten recently expanded upon the public library in an attempt to better the community. However, due to insufficient planning and misunderstandings, miscommunication, and so on, the project was not as community-friendly as originally intended. In order to make up for privatizing what was originally intended to be a public service, Mr. Vansten would like to acquire the abandoned recreation area. Without revealing too much of our business plan, we have the intention of opening newly installed facilities to the public at large in order to better serve the Night Vale community and to, admittedly, clear the Vansten name."

Jake didn’t mention how the plan could boost the community’s morale and pride, implying a strength in the revolution. He also didn’t mention how the new park would include an ‘in memoriam’ statue of Marcus. It was tricky business talking about, or not talking about, Marcus’ current state of being. He tried to avoid bringing it up, when possible.

"I’m afraid that’s all I can say about the project at the moment. But I’m more than happy to talk numbers," he said, folding his hands on the desk to pass the conversation.

"Ah, yes, the library."  Chuckling, Sergio shook his head.  "My goodness, wasn’t that an interesting little project?   I can understand completely why you’d wish to do a little something to help his public image."

Drumming his fingers along the tabletop, the re-educator hummed thoughtfully.  The noise buzzed oddly within Jake’s skull; bees swarming between his thoughts.  When Sergio finished, the PA could feel a palpable relief in the ensuing quiet.

"While I can certainly appreciate the value in a new recreational area, the question becomes whether or not that is more worthy and enriching than dedicating the land to factories, offices, galleries, and studios that may produce great works and workers."

Sergio began to run a fingertip along the rim of his glass, the light, hollow ringing sound it produced seeming to pierce right through Jake’s body.

"How many long-term employees do you think the recreational facilities would be capable of sustaining?   Assuming, of course, that you would have given them the same generous and all-encompassing benefits package offered to every Strex employee?"

As Sergio continued, the words he said seemed to blur around the edges; some melting into each other like hot drops of wax colliding as they ran down the side of a candle.  The chair in which Jake sat was remarkably comfortable, his body feeling heavy against it.

"We look at it this way," said Jake, leaning forward and blinking hard to try and center his vision. There were slight movements in the corners of his eyes that tried to get his attention, distracting him from his commitment to making eye-contact with people he spoke to. "Mr. Vansten wishes to cover whatever expenses you’ve already lost to the land. I would suggest using that money towards securing the jobs your company is already having a hard time keeping time of job—"

Jake shook his head and apologized, pinching the bridge of his nose. And he thought of taking a sip of water to clear his head when he realized just how strange his situation was. His hand hovered halfway towards the glass before he paused, watching a bead of water slip down the surface and collide with the tabletop with a terrific splash. He returned his hand to his lap, slowly turning back to Sergio, eyes wide. His lips were vibrating. His entire outline was vibrating. Everything was vibrating, just a little. He squinted and, for whatever reason, attempted to finish his sentence. “Your company, as I understand it, is having a hard time keeping an eye on the jobs it has already offered to Night Vale citizens. I would suggest investing your resources to solving that matter before sinking more money into land that could… That could…”

They were going to turn it into a water park, weren’t they? That sort of thing? There would be water. He wondered if that water would have oranges in it, too.

"There’s no way," he murmured, putting a hand against his face. There was no way that a sip  of drugged water would have this much of an effect on him. What if he drank the whole glass? Would he have overdosed? Did they know him that well or was that what they were expecting? Maybe he’d already overdosed. On… whatever it was. “Am I dying?” he asked suddenly. Tiredly.

" _Dying_?  No, no, Mr. Lin.  If I had wanted you dead, there are many far more convenient ways to go about that business than this."

Getting to his feet and striding over to Jake’s side, he placed a fingertip on the edge of the glass, sliding it out of the PA’s reach.

"Don’t worry about that - just mineral water and orange slices.  While etiquette is important and I predicted you’d at least sample what was given, I wasn’t going to chance this on you trying to demonstrate some pitiful act of defiance.  What you’re feeling right now are the effects of a sedative you’ve been breathing since you entered the room.  I’m immune."  A wry smile.  "A result of my tutelage with Ricardo.  Building immunity was not an enjoyable process, but I can’t deny its benefits."

Placing a hand on Jake’s chest, he lightly pressed him into the cushions of the chair, rolling him backward and away from the table.

" _So_ glad you chose to drop by today.  I was actually putting together a little project to keep me out of the office, although, you know, now I think this is a more pressing matter."

Crouching so he was meeting Jake’s eyes, Sergio favored the other with a courteous smile.

"Jake, how do you feel about biomachines?"

The assistant could do very little to stop Sergio from wheeling him around. He tried to focus on the relief he felt that he wasn’t going to die while also wondering if it was the truth. It was getting impossible to think a single, clear thought.  “But the harbor,” he muttered, trying to hold onto his original purpose.

It went straight out the window when Sergio changed the subject.  His mind was like a liquid, taking the shape of whatever it was poured into. “Biomachines…?” he asked, putting together what that meant. He’d never given them much thought; he was usually too busy making sure “ _x thick_ ” glass was be strong enough to hold “ _y tons_ ” of water for an indoor aquarium or whether or not a pink merlot was too flamboyant for a formal occasion.

"They’re just machines…" he answered at last.  "You build them, program them, and they do what they’re told…right? So they’re just computers with a face. Or what, are they made out of plants or something? Are they organic? A potato battery is still a potato. A machine that… that… that…" He tried to snap his fingers but he could hardly lift his arm. "A machine that does stuff… is still just a machine."

“Really now?”

Sergio straightened, looking down on the personal assistant with an expression of mild disdain.

"Jake, have you ever wondered what it is to be human?  Really given any thought to where the lines get drawn and what they mean?  Working with biomechanics, things become awfully indistinct.  Matters you previously believed black-and-white reveal they’re nothing of the sort, once you begin delving into them in earnest.  Is someone still human if they’re a brain in a mechanical body?  What about a human consciousness existing in a mechanical brain housed within a flesh-and-blood body?  At what percentage is someone still human, if they were to replace parts of their bodies with mechanical components?”

The ventilation system had become noisier, the citrus fragrance in the room beginning to disperse, though hazy specters still wandered the corridors of Jake’s body; clouds of lassitude left hanging in their wake.

"Daniel has taught me a great deal about those kinds of questions.  Did you know, I was one of the first people to have a conversation with him after he became self-aware?  It was an unforgettable day.  It took us quite a while, but we eventually progressed in our biomechanics research to the point where we could produce a sophisticated biomechanical human body.  Of course, transferring Daniel’s consciousness was one of the first things I ensured we did.  We’ve made incredible strides since then, as well; successfully integrated biomechanical organ transplants into the bodies of patients in need.  

"So, all of that got me to thinking - if I could transfer an artificial intelligence into a biomechanical body, could I do the same with an intelligence that originated in a human brain?  And, in doing so, would they still be considered human?"

The doors opened, a few eyeless, suited Strex employees filing in from either side of the room to flank Jake slumped in the chair.

"And, you know, I think you’re going to help me figure that out.  We’re going to do a little experiment, Jake, and I believe we’re going to start…"

Reaching out, he tapped a finger on the left side of Jake’s chest, tracing a heart across his suit jacket.

"…right here."

The sentences were all sewn together, too tightly to tell each stitch, each word, apart. Jake stared at Sergio’s lips, which moved incongruent to the sounds that left them. He couldn’t necessarily hear the words over the buzzing and vibrating but he understood. It still clicked and so he continued to listen as he sank lower and lower into the chair, so low that he was falling. 

He was… afraid. He was going to die and he didn’t even get to leave Marcus a voicemail to apologize for being unable to put in his two weeks prior notice. …He wouldn’t be able to tell Marcus he loved him. No matter what Sergio said, he was certain he was going to die and that the last thing he’d have done was fail the simple task of buying the deeds to an abandoned expanse of wood and sand.

His heart fluttered fearfully when Sergio touched him. The words suddenly rang as clear as day, although Jake wasn’t sure if the drones flooding in were real or not. “An experiment…?” he whined, failing miserably in shying away from Sergio’s finger. What would Marcus do in this situation?

"F… Fuck you…" he groaned, closing his eyes as cold (hot??) claws wrapped around his arms tight enough to crush bone and rip skin apart. They’d already taken his legs, dammit. They tore them off so fast he couldn’t even feel them anymore. He screamed as they dragged him away, positive that he was feeling pain, which didn’t actually exist.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do androids dream of electric sheep?

It was difficult to say whether it was the odor or the noise that woke him.  It crowded in from all sides, oppressive; the scent of oil, rust, and ozone tangling with the cacophony of tumbling mechanical debris.  His vision was a smudgy miasma of earthen colors that gradually resolved itself into something only marginally clearer.  His body was sprawled out across a hillock of abandoned mechanical components and technological detritus.  As his eyes continued to focus, Jake found his surroundings to be hills…vistas…of the same.  It was a scrap heap of colossal proportions, cranes shifting debris from one mountainous region to another with great, booming crashes under a fog-glazed crimson sky.

"Well, for heaven’s sake, would you look at that."

A hand came to rest on Jake’s shoulder, a figure he had not heard approaching kneeling beside him.  

"I’ll bet you’re still completely functional."  

The man’s face was partially obscured behind a gas mask, a hood drawn up over his head revealing a few stray locks of black hair fluttering in the acrid breeze.  His dark eyes twinkled behind his protective eye gear.

"Who in their right mind would ever throw _you_ out?"

"Marcus," Jake replied automatically but it wasn’t an answer to the question. It was a question in itself. "Where is…?" He tried to turn his head but it was too heavy. It was possible but not worth the effort. He grunted as even the thought of moving cause his world to spin and the face behind the mask distort. He kept himself perfectly still, feeling that each limb weighed as much as the mountains of metal surrounding him.

His eyes, however, moved freely. He studied the red sky, the chilling hand on his shoulder, and the dark, looming cranes that moved carefully through the smog, as though searching like birds of prey.  Hunting.

He was afraid they would find him. He was afraid he was already found. They were going to pluck out his eyes and eat his insides until there was nothing left of him. “Marcus?” he asked again, voice tight with the fear that he had been abandoned. Again. Left to rust and fall apart. Or to be picked apart… piece by piece.

"Marcus?" echoed the man.  "Is that someone you know?"

Jake’s muscles were sore from being laid out on the hard, sharp-edged debris.  His mouth and nose were dry, insides coated by the oil and dirt hanging in the air around him.  Eyes raw, stomach empty and hollow, a sharp pang of hunger spiked within him.  

Another hand gripped his opposite shoulder, gently pulling him into an upright position.  The abandoned’s eyes met with those of the cloth-swathed, gas-masked man who had found him.  Realization dawned, dark and glittering behind protective lenses, as he scrutinized Jake’s face.

"Ah," he said slowly.  "I see now. You’re a little out of sorts, aren’t you?  Well, not to worry - we’ll get you fixed up in no time.   You must be so hungry…so thirsty…and weak as a _kitten_ , no doubt.  All flesh and blood out here of all places…”  He tsk’d lightly before starting to haul Jake upward from his place half-buried in rubbish.  With a bit of maneuvering, he was bundled up over the man’s back, legs secured around the other’s waist as his arms were held to keep him in place.  "You’re lucky I found you.  Don’t worry, anymore - I’m going to take you home."

A living memory, a clear and familiar voice and the sensation of a hand on his head.

“ _Kittens, Jake. Like kittens._ ”

They were kind words and it was a kind offer except Jake felt nothing but fear. He didn’t want to leave. What if Marcus came looking for him? He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten to where he was. A number of possibilities went through his head, ranging from abandonment to death. What if Marcus was dead? What if he’d been waiting here for years? It could have been minutes. He couldn’t remember.

"No," Jake pleaded, watching as his resting spot grew further and further away. "What if he… I need to wait… Marcus…"

He began to cough. Was it blood? Oil? It was too dark to be blood, too red to be oil. It stuck to his bottom lip and dripped from his dust-caked nose. It was dripping from his eyes, as well. Perhaps it would have been tears if his body had a single drop of water left to spare.

“Please…” he begged, “Please, sir…”

It was getting dark, almost too dark to see, and the hum of the cranes grew loud. They were deafening. Jake screwed his eyes shut tight and tried to drown out the noise by focusing on the crunch of footsteps and his own ragged breathing.

The man waited until the discordant clamor of the cranes faded before to speaking, climbing through hills and valleys of rubbish, ever careful of the treacherous footing.

"Shhh…it’s alright.   You’re safe now - I won’t let anything hurt you."

Jake kept his eyes shut the entire time, wordlessly begging to be put back. It didn’t take much for him to lose his voice with the shape it was in. When he was seated in the car, all hope was lost. He bit his lip miserably, letting out a cracked whine as the strange, dark liquid slipped down his face from the corners of his eyes.

As they came over the rise of a hill, beginning to descend its other side, a clearing became evident at the foot; a little car parked in its center near a gated entrance.  Half walking, half skidding downward, the scavenger took a moment to shake out his legs after coming to a halt, a smile in his words as he spoke.

"We’re going to get you back home and sorted out."

Closing the distance between them and the car, the man used a free hand to awkwardly wrench open the passenger’s side door, depositing Jake into the seat and strapping the safety belt around him.

"Here we are," he said pleasantly, as he closed the door and came around to slip into the driver’s seat.  "Do you think you could manage some coffee?   I’d offer water, but this is all I have."

The man reached over the console to fish out a thermos from the glove compartment, unscrewing the lid and holding it close to Jake’s mouth.

"It may help with the dust and grime.  I can’t imagine your poor throat’s in good shape."

The moment he was offered anything to put into his stomach, he jumped at it. Jake lost all of his worries in a brief flash of animalistic need. He was desperate for water, coffee, spoiled milk, didn’t matter. He drank until he sputtered and then drank some more. While he drank, he formulated a plan. He’d regain his health, enough to at least walk, and then he’d return. He’d find his little spot on that desolate, metal hill under the red sky and he’d wait for as long as he had to. Jake would bury himself if it meant the vultures wouldn’t find him. Marcus would look, he told himself. Marcus would dig until he was found and then he’d finally go home.

Jake’s head fell back into the seat and he gasped for air. It hurt his throat, which the coffee did little to clear. He was so full of dust and thick, dried fluid that he wasn’t sure he’d ever breathe a single puff of fresh air again.

Thoughts of Marcus welled up again like beads of blood from a cracked scab. He whimpered, wishing he had the energy to free himself or to at least shut out the spinning. He discovered that having your world stop and come crashing down around you didn’t stop it from spinning. It span on, faster than ever.

"I want to go  _home_ ,” he insisted, refusing to look at his captor out of defiance and fear.

"Which is where," the man said, taking a napkin from the console and swabbing at Jake’s face with it, "I am taking you.  We’ll get you all fixed up.  Do you remember your name, son?  Do you remember where you were before you were in the scrap heap?"

The man asked his questions between removing pieces of his equipment - the protective eye wear, gas mask, and hooded get-up - to reveal a slightly rumpled man in his early-to-mid thirties with angular facial features, a head of black hair, and thick eyebrows arching over dark, curious eyes.

"My name is Sergio.  It’s something of a hobby of mine to come out to the heap to look for anything interesting.  Never dreamed I’d find a _person_ out there.  Now, who is Marcus?  If that’s someone you remember, perhaps we’ll see if we can get in touch with them and they can help you on your road to recovery."

Jake shook his head in quiet refusal. This man’s home was not his own. He wanted to go home where he had work to get done and where there would be praises upon praises. He wanted that warm feeling he got when he thought about that voice, those hands, those eyes. _Green_ eyes… Such a warm feeling…

"Sergio…" he repeated distantly. The name was familiar but… not. Not at all. He winced as his head throbbed something fierce. "I… I don’t remember…" he groaned, tossing his head back and forth slowly. "How I got there… How long…"

His heart leapt straight into his throat and he suddenly eyed Sergio as if he was the only light left in a very dark world. His breathing quickened visibly as he struggled to contain his excitement. “Marcus,” he said, “Please, I want to see Marcus. He’s… he’s my…” Jake squeezed his eyes shut again, another groan rumbling in his throat as memory avoided him. He could feel it hiding behind the throbbing veins in his brain. It was there, just enough for Jake to know it was there, but he couldn’t make it out. Who was Marcus? “He makes me happy,” Jake said. It was all he could manage. “I need to wait for Marcus. He’s… everything. He’s  _home_.”

The red oil blotted out his vision before slipping down his cheeks. His bottom lip quivered and he knew he’d never felt so vulnerable, so weak, in his entire life. “Please… Please, help me.”

"Home is where the heart is, eh?  It sounds like Marcus is very special.  I can understand how upset you must be right now, but I’m sure it was a mistake that you ended up out there.  It looks like whoever you were last living with did some modifications on you…really tried to play up the, ‘bio’ part.  Why, you look and feel nearly wholly organic at this point.  That might have caused some problems, but not to worry - I’ll get you back to normal.

"After all, the, ‘machine’ is just as important as the, ‘bio.’  We don’t want to risk imperfection, here, do we?"

Sergio replaced the thermos and started the car, the machine lurching to life with an effortful, rattling wheeze. 

“I’m going to take you to a diner I know of that should have just the things for you.  I could use a fresh coffee, myself, truth told.  The chemical processes of breaking down the food and the nutrients you can absorb from it should help with the fatigue.  Before you know it, we’ll be laughing about this!”

The car rumbled onward, the pair of them winding their way down ragged highways under a sodium-vapor lit night, sky starless and hazy above them as the sun retreated.

Jake struggled with those words for the entire drive. He let them pool in the pit of his stomach and cause a storm around him. His own consciousness sat in the eye of the storm, eyeing the accusations like billowing clouds and strikes of lightning. The machine… was just as important…

With a great deal of effort, he raised a hand to his chest and placed it over his heart. He could feel it beating. He could feel his lungs expand with the need for air. He needed air. That meant he was alive, didn’t it? Or was he just… made that way? Made to need air. Made to…

Made to need

“Marcus.”

" _Kittens, Jake. Like kittens._ "

"Jake," he murmured, blearily staring at the diner Sergio was pulling up to, and feeling sick at the thought of food. The thought of eating made him ravenous. But food? No. His appetite was nonexistent.  "My name is Jake."

His hand fell to his side with a hard ‘thump’ and refused to move any more than it had. Straining to try, and clearly failing, Jake wheezed, “I can’t move.”

"Jake, then.  It’s a nice name.   Not to worry, Jake - you’ll be fine once we get some food in you."

Unbuckling the seatbelt from around Jake, Sergio hefted the other onto his back again, carrying him into the establishment.  The patrons looked up in curiosity, the hostess pausing for a moment, looking at a loss.

"A booth, please.   My friend will be fine - he just needs to get some proteins and sugars and a good dose of caffeine."

Scrutinizing Jake’s face for a moment, understanding dawned in the hostess’s expression and she gave Sergio a smile.

"As it happens, we have a special for our biomachine clientele.   I’ll get it ready for you."

"Thank you kindly."

As the pair were ushered into a booth, something odd flickered at the edges of Jake’s vision; pale electric blue and with patterns just beyond his comprehension.

Sergio sat the fellow up in the booth, settling in beside him as a waiter swooped in with coffee and creamer, of which Sergio poured Jake a generous cup, ordering a slice of cherry pie for himself.

"Drink slowly, but try to get it all.   It will certainly help get you back up to speed."

The word ‘biomachine’ felt like accidentally dragging a nail across a chalkboard. And yet, Jake found himself responding to the description as if he’s heard it all his life. Unsure of what to make of the stir of emotions, he let it go without a word. He didn’t have the energy to argue, regardless.

He gave a thankful glance to Sergio after he was seated. It wasn’t pleasant being dragged around in public but he said it himself; he couldn’t move.

It was still the case when the coffee was brought to him. He tried to lift an arm to take hold, aching for the warmth of the mug in his hands and the sweet, bitter taste on his tongue. But something told him, literally told him, that all of his energy was being put into keeping his eyes open. So he closed them. With that, he was able to twitch his fingers and nothing more.

"I’m critical," he stated automatically, "My reserve energy is over 99% depleted."

How did he know that? What did it even _mean_?

"I… I can’t move… anything…" he said. He was suddenly afraid of turning off. He felt so weak and heavy… what if he turned off and never turned back on again? A whimper escaped his throat and he kept his eyes closed, afraid that chancing a glance at Sergio would run him completely dry. "I’m… scared."

As Jake reported his status, the electric blue patterns intensified, becoming clearer, until they resolved themselves into various read-outs concerning his body’s condition as well as reports involving the immediate environment around him.   Even as he thought the words, ‘Heads-Up Display,’ the images became more solid and real; assertion reinforcing existence.

He felt the rim of the coffee cup press to his lower lip, the warm brew slowly poured into Jake’s mouth as if he were an infant being fed.   As he managed to stomach a bit of the drink, Jake could feel strength returning to him.

"Just take it easy.   I’m here - you don’t have to be frightened.   Everything will be just fine."

Soon afterward, the waiter returned with a slice of pie and a plate for Jake heaped high with salmon smothered in slices of avocado and almond sauce, warm, wheaty flat bread, and a cup of mixed berries drizzled with dark chocolate.

Sergio gave his charge a smile.   ”Not a bad spread.   Can you manage, or shall I get the first bites to you?”

Jake took a deep breath, relaxing as the coffee settled in his stomach. He felt a little sick… but to have anything go down was an immense relief. The flashing red lights began to fade back to blue, although he could still read “warning” somewhere in his peripheral vision.

"I’m sorry," Jake sighed, finding that he was still unable to convince his body to put any energy into lifting limbs. But he allowed himself to open his eyes, to at least look at the man who was feeding him. It wasn’t right, being helpless. He was supposed to be the capable one. He was supposed to be the one holding the spoon.

But he couldn’t even hold himself upright. So he chuckled nervously and curled his fingers against the seat of the booth. It was a start. “Sergio…” That didn’t feel right. Too casual. He took a mental step back. “Sir…”

"Sir, I’d… appreciate your assistance. I mean… I _do_  appreciate your assistance. And your patience. I haven’t been very cooperative and that’s… unacceptable.”

Even if you aren’t Marcus.

"You haven’t a thing to apologize for, Jake."

As he opened his eyes, Jake’s vision of the world was somewhat altered.   It was more like looking at a high-resolution picture of the diner around him instead of looking at it directly with his own eyes.   Meeting his gaze, Sergio smiled knowingly, raising a spoonful of the salmon to the other’s mouth.

"I would hardly be upset with someone for being exhausted or ill - it would be unreasonable.   You were clearly in a terrible, extraordinary circumstance, but you’re going to come through this just fine."

Catching a glimpse of his reflection in the polished diner table, Jake could make out a change in his eyes.   They were no longer a warm, rich chestnut, but an unnaturally vibrant shade of blue that appeared very slightly, coldly luminous, as an LED Christmas bulb might be.

"You’re getting better already.   I’m sure your Marcus will be happy to see you again operating at optimal capacity."

Humming thoughtfully, Sergio raised a brow.

"You know, Daniel would probably be excited to meet you.   I imagine he could help you in ways I may not be able to, as well.  Just a moment."

Sergio drew back, taking a smart phone from his pocket to tap out a message.

"There we are!   Between us, we’ll have you back on your feet in no time flat."

Another spoonful was raised to Jake’s lips encouragingly.

Jake blinked curiously at the sight of his own eyes. It wasn’t right just as much as it was. He was feeling better. More like himself. Or more like who he was supposed to be.

"Daniel?  Jake questioned with a distasteful look. He didn’t like thinking of meeting other people. He felt… exclusive. Maybe that was how he was made. Maybe it was how he had been conditioned in his previous life. But there was no reason to get defensive, he decided while Sergio tapped away on his phone.

He contented himself with being fed, slowly relaxing in Sergio’s presence until he had grown to like him very much. Jake owed him a great deal, after all. “It’s good,” Jake commented, allowing himself to be fed even when he started regaining feeling in his arms. The nerves were coming back online. He felt lighter and capable. But there was something nice about having Sergio’s attention so Jake didn’t mention it.

He didn’t mention much of anything until Daniel walked through the door. Jake caught his eyes and knew, instantly, that they were alike. That they were both biomachines. Except they were also very different, somehow. Jake couldn’t think beyond the fact that Daniel was perfect and healthy and better friends with Sergio. It was as if he’d walked in on Marcus telling someone else to read off his list of things-to-do-for-the-day…

Jake blinked hard as a memory attempted to play before his very eyes like some sort of… video. He pushed it aside, back into the banks where it belonged. Sergio was not Marcus. There was no reason to feel… _jealous_.

Daniel took pause upon entering the diner, his luminous, ice blue eyes settled on a pair of the same across the room; he had been about to call out to Sergio, but he was struck for a moment by the man he was sitting with. Yes. A man with retinal cameras who was like him—and yet, not. There was something wholly _organic_ about him, too. It piqued his curiosity as he finally moved forward, striding up alongside the table.

"Father," he said, reaching out to put a silicone hand with clean, perfect white fingernails on the man’s shoulder—his expression was one of bewilderment, still fixated on Jake. "I came as soon as I… who is he?" he asked, moving his hand to the table so he could lean forward and down, peering into Jake’s face with unblinking, bright eyes. His posture was perfect, even still, in a tailored black turtleneck, the ports inside his ears visible to Jake at such close proximity beneath synthetic and immaculate chestnut hair.

Absorbed in helping his foundling to nourish himself, the man didn’t notice Daniel until he followed Jake’s shifting gaze.   He returned the smile, placing a hand over the biomechanical one on his shoulder and giving it a warm squeeze in return.  Being called, ‘father,’ still touched Sergio every time he heard it.

The biomachine smiled, keenly interested. “This is who you were referring to in your message, father?”

"Daniel, this is Jake," Sergio replied.  "Jake, this is Daniel.  He’s my son.  Have a seat if you like, Danny.  There’s coffee if you’d care for it or if you would like something a bit more substantial, I can have them bring another order of what Jake’s been having."

Shaking his head, he gave the newly arrived fellow a lopsided smile.

"Jake was in the scrap heap, if you can believe it."  Turning Jake to address him directly, brushing a stray strand of hair from the other’s face, he continued, "It’s a miracle I found you before you shut down completely, but I think you’re going to recover just fine.  It’s actually a good indicator that you weren’t left there for too terribly long.  That’s excellent as it means you’re less likely to have a great deal of damage from exposure, and there’s a better chance of tracking down your Marcus."  His brow creased in consternation.  "For whatever reason, someone chose to cause you an imbalance; make you more organic than mechanical.   Plain and simple human vanity is likely to be the case.  But you’re already recovering, it would seem.   You’re making admirable progress for so short a time, Jake."

Jake didn’t bother to eat while Sergio talked. He kept his eyes on Daniel, scrutinizing and envying him. Maybe even hating him. He felt like he should be more like Sergio. He didn’t want to be compared to this… walking, talking tin-can. Jake narrowed his eyes and he moved his own arm, taking hold of the fork and wolfing down another mouthful of food.

"I _am_  organic,” Jake said rather simply. And proudly. He held his head up high with a smug smile, directed straight at Daniel. It wasn’t the truth but it also wasn’t a lie. He searched those strange memory banks for an explanation. He recalled, “I’ve been… enhanced. To get more work done. To do a better job. To be…”

" _The best damn PA a rich, old bastard could ask for_ ," Jake heard within his own mind.

"To be _better_ ," he said. "The best."

Another mouthful of food.

Daniel seated himself beside Sergio and accepted a cup of coffee—he produced a flask from somewhere in his pocket, pouring a small amount of some clear, shiny liquid into the mug along with the roast. Oil, probably. He took a sip while he listened with all the curiosity of a child, but the demeanor of the age he appeared, leaning forward on one elbow to stare at Jake with that soft, curious smile.

It faded, though, into something more akin to confusion when Jake so pridefully boasted that he was… organic. Was it disappointment that the biomachine felt? Pity? Resentment…? He wasn’t sure.

He didn’t like it, though. It bothered him.

"You’re not organic," Daniel stated, matter of fact and blunt as always, staring at the much shorter biomachine over the rim of his coffee mug. “You’re like me. But you’re imbalanced, like father said. We could fix that. Don’t you want to be better than the best?  Perfect?”

Sergio glanced between the pair, brows raised in surprise.   He had hoped meeting another person of biomechanical origins would comfort Jake; ease his mind about his predicament.   But this?   Was it jealousy?   Certainly someone had been filling his head with this business of organic superiority.   It stung to see Daniel’s smile fade, but Sergio took it in stride, resting a hand briefly atop his son’s.

"However Jake chooses to configure himself is up to him.   For certain biomechanical people, imbalance can be dangerous, but for others it is just something to which they will have to pay close attention and tend to as needed.   It can put undue strain on certain components, but, if one has the resources, they could simply adhere to a more high maintenance schedule.   Nevertheless, Jake, your body will seek equilibrium.   If you wish to remain as you are, it will take a concerted effort.”

Waving his hand, he took a sip of coffee.

"But those are things to be addressed later.  Presently we just want to focus on getting you strong enough to move about independently.  How are you feeling, Jake?"

Jake’s expression began to give way to concern. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of any of that. It was either a long and tedious process of staying the same or caving in to minimizing problems in exchange for his current state of being. Neither option sounded particularly appealing.

"I’m feeling better, sir," said Jake as he finished off a portion of his plate. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Daniel. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Daniel said. It stung and it annoyed him and yet… To be remade for the sake of being ‘the best’… Wasn’t that a strive for perfection? Wouldn’t Marcus want him… perfect?

He didn’t say anything and a cool, collected mask replaced all the feelings that dared show in his eyes and the corners of his lips. That felt right. It felt safe. And he remembered that this was who he was. He didn’t show emotion. He even liked to pretend he didn’t have any emotions to hide.

All except love and pride. He would gladly show his love and pride for his work… for his boss. For Marcus.

He wished he’d stop thinking of that name for five goddamn minutes.

Daniel glanced toward Sergio at the touch of his hand, automatically seeking guidance. He was… confused. How could someone who was so like him be so adamantly set on… not being that way? Daniel embraced what he was. He _believed_ in it. He was meant to be; he was alive, and a person. Not human, but a _person_. Sergio always made sure he knew that.

So why did he get the impression that this strange biomachine thought to be machine was to be _lesser_?

He set the problem aside to go over the numbers later—for now, he set himself to the task of problem-solving. He sat up a bit, once again setting his coffee mug down. “If your power reserves are low, I can jumpstart you,” he offered, reaching for the panel on the back of his neck. It slid open with a soft whirr, and Daniel drew a wound cord from inside, wrapping it around his fingers, unblinking eyes fixed on Jake. “Do you have a lithium battery? Where is your port?”

Sergio gave Daniel a reassuring smile, squeezing the other’s fingers briefly before looking back to Jake.

Watching Daniel and hearing him speak of batteries and ports, Jake felt a sensation like insects crawling beneath the skin in the same area as the biomachine’s on the back of his neck as if in some mirrored response.   It felt almost like his body had forgotten the way it was meant to be and was eagerly seeking out patterns to emulate and instructions to follow.   Touching the skin where the strange sensation was buzzing, Jake discovered it had changed in texture, his flesh feeling like silicone beneath his fingers.

"If you don’t have one, the chemical processes breaking down the food should do you well in the meantime; it will just take longer than would if Daniel were to help you from his own power reserves."

"I…" Jake continued to touch his neck, feeling the almost microscopically thin indent where a removable panel was set in place. As he returned his attention to the two men sitting in front of him, he suddenly began to wonder if he was…dreaming? It had to be a dream, right? That panel was not there before; he was certain.

The corners of his vision vibrated and blurred but with a quiet ‘click,’ Jake’s panel opened and he forgot everything. It made complete sense and he was grounded back down to his hallucination.

"I’d appreciate it, sir," he said to Sergio, sitting up straight. His eyes moved to Daniel and an electric fuzz buzzed in the back of his head. It crackled and hissed, making Jake flinch briefly. He realized it was some sort of wordless interface. Silent, biomechanical signals sent over short distances that translated to an understanding. Jake’s body was responding to Daniel’s offer automatically. "My port is here," he said, tilting his head. "It isn’t as new as yours but is still compatible."

"Much faster this way," Daniel said with a nod, standing up from his seat; efficiency was something he prided himself in. It was something anyone completely organic could never accomplish to the same degree. It was something to be proud of. Maybe Jake would come to realize that, in time.

The brunette biomachine stood beside Jake, leaning over to peer into his port; it took him only a moment to locate the correct connector, muttering something like ‘out of date by a while, aren’t you’, and he gave the cord a bit more length as he pressed his fingers gently to the bottom of the panel and plugged it in.

The result was instantaneous. Daniel’s eyes flickered and lit up brighter, and he went perfectly still, keeping his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Eighty five,” he murmured, “Eighty. Seventy five. Seventy. Sixty five…”

There was a quiet double beep and the energy transfer stopped abruptly, leaving Jake’s body surging with energy that crackled electric blue in the borders of his vision before settling back in. Daniel smiled, allowing the cord to coil and slip back into the slot in his neck, and he shut his panel. “I gave you half of my power reserve. I’ll be fine after a couple of hours in the sun. Don’t worry.”

"Perfect!   Thank you, Daniel.   I confess I don’t know that I could ever give up eating entirely, but I wouldn’t mind being able to recharge like that now and again."

Sergio smiled up to his son before turning back to Jake.   While he may have pulled his hand away from the spot which had become the access port as informed by Daniel’s design, a very subtle, cool, tingling sensation continued to spread slowly from the area to other parts of his skin.   Were Daniel to have glanced down, he would have seen the beginnings of a shift from flesh to silicone, Jake’s skin becoming much like his own external covering.   However it was that the fellow had come to be chiefly organic, without concerted effort and resistance to halt the process, he seemed to be returning to a more typically biomechanical state.   Where the skin had changed, so, too, had the feeling - the silicone cooler to the touch and not quite as sensitive as the skin it had replaced.   The HUD spread across his vision reported on the state of it; the area it covered increasing incrementally as time went on.

"If you’re feeling alright, we can leave whenever you like, Jake.   Once we’re back home at the lab, we can get you properly cleaned up and in a new set of clothes.   There’ll doubtlessly be a suit your size - we offer outfitting to all of our staff."

Jake let all the changes settle in, allowing them to happen with a curious fascination. He felt so much better and his body went from weighing a ton to weighing nothing at all. Jake was as light as air, as helium. He felt he could get up and float right out of the diner and into the red sky.

"Thank you, Daniel," he said, marveling at how quick and easy it had been to bring him away from what felt like the brink of death.

His brow came together and he squeezed at his knees. He still felt a little sick and now there was food in his stomach, making knots and twisting painfully. Pushing a mostly clear plate away, he stated, “I’m feeling alright. I’d like to leave, now.”

There was still dust and grime everywhere. Coating his throat and nostrils and under his nails, in his body, all over his hair… “After I’m clean, we’ll look for Marcus?” he asked.

Both the gratitude expressed by Sergio and by Jake, along with the readable changes in Jake’s current state brought a wider smile to Daniel’s face. How good it felt to be needed. How good it felt to be productive. How good it felt to work.

He was absolutely positive that Jake would understand that, as well.

"You’ll feel even better when you’re out of those dusty clothes," Daniel said, picking up his coffee across the table without sitting down, draining down the rest of it. He took the little bottle of clear machine oil from his pocket, showing it to Jake. "If you need any of this, don’t hesitate to ask," he offered, beaming. "I don’t know how long you were out there in the scrap, but it’s better not to risk damage by letting it be."

"Good idea," Sergio commented with a nod to the oil Daniel offered.   "And don’t be shy about asking, Jake, we have everything we could possibly need for your or Daniel’s care back at our facilities."

The query concerning Marcus was met with a nod and a smile.

"Yes.   I think I’ll want to have a good night’s rest, but we’ll begin looking first thing in the morning.   You’re looking much better already."

Rising from his seat, Sergio laid out money for the check, adjusted his jacket, and made his way back out toward his car, glancing up frequently to ensure Jake was following without any trouble.   He couldn’t help but feel a warm fluttering in his chest at Daniel’s obvious delight.   While the development of an AI as advanced as Daniel as well as his subsequent successful move into a fully operational humanoid body was nothing short of miraculous, producing others as sophisticated as he was had proved challenging.   Even those with promise of becoming as advanced as was Sergio’s son had a long way to go; they were still, in their ways, very child-like by comparison.   Daniel had, privately, expressed his loneliness to his surrogate father, but try as he might, Sergio’s efforts to duplicate what had happened with his son had proven inadequate.   There were others, of course, and they could perform their assigned tasks, interact with others, and, provided they were not too deeply questioned, blend in almost seamlessly with the people around them.   But none of them displayed the intelligence and individuality that Daniel possessed.

Until that evening, it seemed.

Upon climbing into the car, had Jake glanced into the rear view or vanity mirrors, he would have noted his facial features had taken on a striking angularity not unlike the biomechanical person who had helped him to re-charge.   It was cleaner, somehow; the exaggerated definition not grotesque, but immaculate.   The asymmetry in his face, too, appeared to be smoothing out - his features taking on an uncanny balance.

"Home again, home again," Sergio murmured in a sing-song voice as he started up the vehicle and brought the pair of them down a long, winding road to a sprawling facility that glowed cold and perfect perched nearby Radon Canyon.

The joints in Jake’s fingers felt better. He hadn’t noticed they’d been hurting but all of the sudden they felt _better_ \- like the cracking and scraping of bones had been replaced by smooth and perfectly built metal. He squeezed his fingers in and out from his palm as the sensation took over more and more of his body. His shoulders, his spine, his knees… It all felt so much better, so much more efficient, so much stronger, when the fragility of human bone had been completely replaced.

He accepted the oil from Daniel, finding that it was more satisfying than quenching mere thirst to have it dispersed throughout his platform. He settled into the car and, while no one was looking, smiled. He was becoming not less human… but more. He was improved. Maybe he wasn’t necessarily… organic… but that didn’t mean he wasn’t human. Right?

Humans came in all kinds. Different colors, backgrounds, disabilities, abilities, so on, and so forth. He was Korean, for instance. Did that make him less human than, say, a German? No, he thought. Not at all.

He watched video memories of Marcus thanking him for this and that until they arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A kind thank you to my co-authors, Zenami and TheMonsterGhost  
> Jake is portrayed by TheMonsterGhost and can be found roleplayed at: mrvanstensbitch.tumblr.com  
> Luciano Silva, Marcus, and Daniel are portrayed by Zenami and can be found roleplayed at: smilingindoctrinator.tumblr.com, marcusgoddamnvansten.tumblr.com, and synernist-supervisor.tumblr.com. Marcus and Daniel are canon WTNV characters, and Luciano Silva was created by Zenami as her Desert Bluffs Carlos  
> Sergio Vega belongs to EruditExperimenter and can be found portrayed at: eruditexperimenter.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking from his surreal dream, Jake finds himself at the mercy of StrexCorp's top re-educators, who are eager to show their dedication to changing minds...and hearts

The waking was harsh.

Jake was briefly aware of something chilly moving through his arm, and when his eyes opened, he found himself not relaxing in a car entertaining dreams of his lover, but restrained to an operating table with lights glaring down at him.   No…not lights… _eyes_.   Luminous eyes dangled from the ceiling, rimmed in ragged lashes, pupils constricting or retracting to allow light to shine down at various intensities upon him.   The table beneath him had a subtle but undeniable pulse to it against Jake’s bare back.   His shirt had been removed and he’d been hooked up to various apparatuses to monitor his vitals, an IV drip of unidentifiable fluid was draining slowly into his arm, and his extremities had begun to go numb.   A mirror positioned above him allowed Jake to see himself, looking every inch ready for a surgical procedure. 

"There we are!" sang out a familiar voice, Sergio moving into Jake’s field of vision.   "Did you have a lovely dream?   So sorry to wake you, but I think you’ll want to watch what’s about to happen.   It’s not every day you’re this starkly aware of a new portion of your life beginning."

Looking up with a smile, the re-educator beckoned someone closer.

"Luciano, have you met Jake yet?"

Sergio’s figure cast in the optic lights was joined by a second, very similar one—his dark, curly hair was drawn into a braid over his shoulder, a surgical mask hanging around his neck so it did not yet obscure a smile accented by two pale, crescent scars across his cheeks. He was pulling on a fresh pair of sterile latex gloves.

The man chuckled, beetle-black eyes peering down at their guest.

"I have, actually," he said, his smile unfaltering as he drew a mobile tray closer, the multitude of mechanical—or were they only partly so?—insectoid legs extending to bring the steel tray higher. He set a pair of scalpels down on it, just out of the patient’s line of sight, with a soft metallic _clack_.

"We had a brief but  _interesting_  conversation about his employer. Ah, now, didn’t I say?”  he bubbled, nothing short of a cheerful ray of sunshine in a pristine white lab coat, dark eyes dancing behind his silver-framed glasses.  "I _told_ you it wouldn’t be the last time we got to talk.”

Jake’s breathing quickened to sharp, terrified gasps and his heart followed suit. The monitors beeped in time, their loud signals almost enough to drown out the casual tone of the other two men. At least, they seemed that loud to Jake.

Under more ordinary circumstances, he would have been calmer. The Sheriff’s Secret Police, for example, were known to occasionally abduct random citizens, knocking them out so that they woke up strapped to a chair in a dark room. After a few pressing questions, they would be released. Jake was used to those sorts of things. He felt confident in his ability to talk his way out of almost anything, especially since he had the money to change many a mind.

But these people were beyond reasonable and the metaphorical chair, literal table, he found himself strapped to was not something he could talk his way out of. Everything within his immediate field of vision served to intensify his fear.

Briefly, he wondered what happened to Daniel before he realized he’d been dreaming. None of that was real. He wasn’t a machine.

But something told him he was about to be.

"I… I don’t… I…" he stuttered, blinking rapidly and struggling against his restraints. He was at a loss for words. What could he say that wasn’t begging? Should he even bother begging?

Where the hell was Marcus?

"What are you doing?" he spat. He was angry, now. Pissed, even.

"Calm down," Sergio cooed, sparing a glance at the IV drip.   The numbing sensation continued to crawl up Jake’s extremities; beginning in his fingertips and making its way in toward his trunk.   "Everything is going to be just fine.   We’re almost ready to begin.   You’ve been doing so well thus far, Jake; I’m impressed, although unsurprised.   All indicators point to you being an exceptional worker, eager to please.   I think you’ll take to biomechanics like a duck to water.   We can’t do the conversion all at once - it would be too strenuous.   So, we’re going to make a start…"

Tapping over Jake’s heart with gloved fingers, the re-educator smiled.

"…right here.  As time goes on, we’ll continue into other systems.   I’m quite interested in seeing how well you take to the mental reprogramming; obeying the laws of robotics and whatnot as Daniel does.   It may be interesting trying some new re-education techniques there."

"I’m looking forward to that,"  Luciano murmured, smiling to himself as he moved away to collect a few more surgeon’s tools—a pair of sterilized scissors, a pair of different sized clamps, a retractor, a fine-tipped dilator. Everything made it to the tray, which seemed to follow him back and forth a bit while he moved, always within arm’s reach.

The thought of a fresh approach to the mental reprogramming portion of his work was an intriguing thought, indeed. But it would be a while yet before Jake was ready for that. Allowing his other to do most of the talking, as he was wont to do—he was not a timid man, but often quiet—Luciano began to hum to himself as he prepared, collecting a swab, cloth, and liquid disinfectant, setting them down on the tray long enough to tug the surgical mask up properly onto his face.

"How are you _feeling_?" he asked, touching Jake’s wrist with gloved fingertips—he chuckled.  “Or  _not_ , as the case should be. Sorry to interrupt your little fit, but feedback is very important.”

Jake continued to struggle for as long as he could, which wasn’t long at all. His increased heart-rate spread the liquid numbness faster. Within seconds, he lost all feeling in his fingers and toes… then his arms and legs… He groaned with the strain he put on himself to tug but his body lay useless on the table he was strapped to.

Where the _hell was_ Marcus? Why wasn’t he _here_? And why did these people not think Marcus was going to be _furious_ that they’d laid a hand on him? "You’re in serious shit," he hissed, heartbeat still fluttering on a nearby screen.

His smile widening, Sergio leaned in closer.

"Oh, are we? ‘Serious shit,’ is it?   And why, exactly, would you say that, Jake?"

Sweating with wasted effort and forced to relax, Jake went still save for his breathing and glaring. “Marcus,” he said in response to Sergio, eyes like the the sharp side of a freshly crafted blade. “You fuck with me, you fuck with _Marcus goddamn_ _Vansten_. Let me warn you now since there’s no apologizing for…”

He eyed Luciano and his tools, finding that he needed to swallow a lump in his throat before he could continue. It was hard to keep his cool but he tried, “For drugging me and strapping me to a table. If you want to get out of this with your heads, I suggest you stop what you’re doing and skip town. Immediately.”

Sergio smiled even as he pulled on his own surgical mask and checked over the equipment, giving a little nod of approval.

"You don’t say?” he drawled conversationally.  “Well, you know, Jake, I’m actually rather pleased to hear it.   I’ve been eager to have your dear Erika pay a visit to the lab.   I’ve been rather curious about what goes on underneath an Angel’s skin, so I think I’ll just sit tight and wait.   I’m sure by now he has an inkling of something being wrong, but I would guess we have plenty of time to get you situated."

"D-don’t…" Jake found himself saying, unable to hold back the words, "Don’t touch Marcus."

His glare went soft, melting under the threat of tears as he was made to consider Marcus in this situation. He went from hoping that his angel would burst in to rescue him to praying that he would just forget about Jake and never go looking for him. Maybe if he actually prayed, Marcus would hear it. But he was too busy reeling from the sickly-sweet look Luciano was giving him to commit to any prayers.

As the re-educator knelt, Jake could hear him fiddling with something nearby - a box being opened, from the sound of it.   When he rose again, he held out a clear canister for Jake to examine; the contents of which included something that appeared to be a human heart made equally of biological and mechanical components suspended in a clear, viscous fluid.   There were certain things, however, that could not be found on a regular heart - little tendrils, cilia, and…good God, were those teeth?…bristled along its exterior; probing outward as if searching for something before retracting back to the main body again.   It was almost like watching a sea anemone reaching out for prey.

"Isn’t it lovely?   Something straight out of a Giger design, I know, but the artistry is just superb.   It’s the same model as Daniel’s, incidentally.   Won’t that be something lovely for you two to have in common?"

Sighing, Sergio looked Jake in the eyes.

"Although, I wonder…Marcus has had some incredibly disparaging things to say concerning biomechanical entities.   Will he still accept your love if it’s from a StrexCorp manufactured heart?   I’ve promised your old one to Luciano - I believe he’ll be making a metronome of it for his pipe organ.   I hear that the hearts of personal assistants are particularly good at keeping time."

Luciano cast a fond look at the biomechanical heart—he absolutely _loved_ it, the seamless blend of technology and organic tissue, the perfect horror that was artificial cardio. To think that years ago, he never would have heard of such a thing, much less been able to use it often in his work! How exciting. Even more so was the bit about keeping the old one, to which he gave an anticipatory grin.

"Ah, yes," he sighed, delight obvious in his expression, his smile hidden by the surgical mask but showing in the crinkles around his eyes.  "I think it should do nicely. Waste not, want not, as they say!"

Jake listened and watched in silent horror, unable to comprehend the situation he found himself in or the men hovering over his numb body. Who could even think of something like this? The twisted mix of organic and synthetic equipment surrounding him, and soon to be a part of him, weren’t things he’d have been able to think of in the worst nightmare. Not even the one he’d had a moment ago had been this macabre.

Luciano chuckled, looking down and skimming his gloved fingers over the tray of instruments, selecting a gleaming silver scalpel with a diamond edge that glinted in the optic lights.

"By the way," he said, looking down sweetly at Jake, eyes half-lidded in mock-affection and a concealed lazy smirk as he curled a fist around the surgical tool.  "You didn’t answer my _question_.”

The motion was swift and sudden. Luciano jerked his shoulder, stabbing the scalpel quite violently but precisely into the back of Jake’s limp hand on the table—right between his first and second knuckles, barely missing the tendons. Blood welled up beside the blade, but when Jake didn’t so much as flinch, the scientist hummed and nodded in satisfaction, wiggling the blade loose and letting him bleed sluggishly. He did not like being ignored.

A soft gasp escaped the PA’s lips when the knife came down and he fully expected to feel something. Anything. He waited for pain to explode like fireworks behind his eyes but… nothing. It was surreal, seeing the knife wiggle its way out of his hand but without so much as a breath of feeling. The panic began to settle in again, double-fold. The screen monitoring his heart beeped frantically as he tried to move anything at all. Nothing twitched. He was as heavy as he’d been in his dream, lying abandoned on a mountain of metal under a red sky. Except he was strapped to a table that he was convinced was breathing and there was no sky, only eyes.

"Fuck…" he whimpered, both hoping and fearing his heart would explode before they could make a single cut.

"Good," the scarred scientist chirped, sliding the scalpel into a beaker of clean water on the tray. Blood billowed into the liquid in pretty ink-like red plumes.  "You’re all numb! Didn’t feel a _thing_ , did you. Sergio, my dear other, I think we’re ready to begin.”

"Luc, I swear, you and your flair for the dramatic."

There was smile in Sergio’s voice, as if he were commenting on the antics of a precocious child.   A small spray canister was produced; a fine mist administered to Jake’s hand which sealed over the wound to stop the bleeding.

"That should keep it sealed up and help with the pain as it heals," he assured his subject, sparing a glance to Luciano and gesturing to Jake’s chest.   "Would you care to do the honors?   The first cut is the deepest."

Meeting Jake’s eyes again, there was a smirk evident in Sergio’s features, even behind his surgical mask.

"Should Vansten choose to come here, Jake, I suppose what happens really depends on him.  I’m not a violent man by nature, although I will take the necessary measures to protect myself and my family should Marcus become…unmanageable."

Something buzzed noisily on one of the counters, Sergio turning and giving a little laugh.  Jake could recognize the rhythm of the vibrations immediately as those belonging to his cell phone’s ring tone; a specific one in particular.

"Well, speak of the _devil_!"

Lifting up a sterile instrument as not to dirty his hands, the re-educator used it to tap the ‘accept’ button on the phone.

"Hello, _Erika_.  How _are_ you doing this evening?”

On the other end of the phone, a voice crackled loudly through, sounding nothing short of furious.

"Why the  _fuck_  do _you_ have Jake’s phone?!” Marcus snarled, obviously startled by who had picked up. “You StrexCorp piss stain. Where’s my PA. Put my PA on his own goddamn phone!”

"Only answering on his behalf!  He dropped by for a visit today.  He and Luciano are presently working together on something, and it seems Mr. Lin is _very_ focused right now.   He can hear you perfectly fine if you’d care to say anything, and I don’t imagine it’ll be…oh…more than an hour before we’re all done here.   Luc’s so good with his hands and I’ll be helping him in a moment.”

Luciano bubbled a gentle laugh, waving his hand softly in dismissal of the comment before beginning to clean and disinfect the bare skin of Jake’s chest, preparing the area for the first incision. Cleanliness was next to godliness, after all, and godliness was perfection—he wasn’t about to risk an infection so early in their game.

Selecting a fresh scalpel and the retractor from the tray, the masked scientist-cum-surgeon smiled a hidden smile that made it easily to his eyes, leaning over their joint patient—and about then, the phone on the counter rang. Luciano paused only a moment to listen, letting loose a soft, dark chuckle at Sergio’s choice of words.

And then he let the scalpel bite into Jake’s skin, humming something that sounded like Vivaldi’s Spring, a very steady gloved hand opening him up.

It didn’t hurt, but Jake wanted to scream. He was powerless, in strength and in words, to stop Luciano and Sergio from cutting him open. Struggling could make things worse. He wanted to take back his muscles and bones, to will himself through whatever drug he was on so that he could thrash and fight his way free. But when the knife met his skin, that was it. Not that he could move, but he made a conscious effort to stay perfectly still. If he was ever going to get back to Marcus, he’d have to survive the surgery.

He turned away from the scalpel, desperate gaze falling to his phone in Sergio’s hand. It was Marcus, he knew, but what point was there in screaming for him? It was clear he was in trouble the moment he didn’t answer. Making a scene would only worry Marcus and encourage him to do something reckless.

With a heavy, shaking sigh, he bit his lip and closed his eyes. ‘ _Please don’t do something stupid_ ,’ he begged Marcus in his mind, ‘ _for fuck’s sake, please don’t do anything stupid._ ’

“Erika, I’ll tell you what - you’re on speaker phone.   I’ll just set you down nearby our little work space and you can listen in to the project we’re all collaborating on!"  Doing just that, Sergio hummed along briefly with Luciano before joining his multiple.  "You’re quite lucky," he said with an encouraging tone to the prone personal assistant.   "We don’t have to cut into you a great deal - your new heart will actually do most of the work.   It’s very delicately done - you’ll recover in no time."

Sergio opened the canister containing the heart, dipped his hands into the viscous liquid in which it was suspended, and drew it out with a downright parental gentleness.   He smiled, cradling the organ in his hands even as it writhed; tendrils and cilia still searching for purchase.   The re-educator’s gaze fell onto the incision his multiple was making, nodding in approval.

"Just let me know when he’s ready, Luciano, and we’ll get this little beauty into its new home."

Ahh, Luciano loved his work. He loved the way the diamond tip of the scalpel’s edge glided through skin and muscle tissue; how it sang like a soft ring to him, a silver bell in a breeze. He adored the way blood beaded along the cut, and even as he used the retractor to open up the incision, he admired the intricacy of the revealed sinews stretched over bone like an organic tapestry.

Jake’s new heart was going to look so pretty, nestled here.

But first! His new metronome. The scarred scientist carefully and expertly created a burrowing path down to Jake’s still-beating organ, amid the swell of his lungs and expanding ribs. It was a very simple procedure, indeed. Bloody gloves reached over to the tray, which craned toward him on all those legs, and he selected a small clamp and the surgical scissors.

Marcus’s breathing was audible on the speakerphone; that was all for a moment, and then. “What are you doing,” he cracked, still angry, but… subdued. Scared. “Jake? What’s going on. What are they doing to your heart. Jake?”

 _"Snip snip,"_  Luciano sing-songed, a Cheshire grin beneath his mask.

"Don’t hurt him," Marcus blurted. "What’s going on?!"

There were some forms of pain that no amount of sedative could subdue. Jake was experiencing two of those forms. On one hand, there was little to do about the sting of skin being pulled apart, muscles being pulled away, organs being pushed aside… There was an underlying pain and an overwhelming pressure. Jake groaned as the incision was spread open and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead at the sight of all that red. All that blood.

The other form of pain was emotional. Mental. It was the horror of the moment leaving a permanent scar at the very front of his brain. It was a hot nail, driving itself deep into the softness of his cortex. Marcus’ voice should have kept him strong but it only kept him from screaming. He felt weak and foolish. He should have called Marcus before driving right into StrexCorp’s palms. He shouldn’t have let pride trap him in a room full of gas…

He shouldn’t have broken down with Marcus still on the line. When Jake saw the scissors, helpless panic ripped through him like a new shredder through thin paper. Even though the logic in him wanted to keep Marcus away, to bite the bullet and suffer so that his boss wouldn’t have to, instinct made him beg.

"M-Marcus… Help…" he whined. After the first cut, he could already feel his body failing. His voice cracked, breaking through his lips in a high-pitched cry. " _Marcus_! He—! _Ah_ …”

Luciano ever-so-delicately lifted the deep red and violet organ from Jake’s chest cavity, holding it almost reverently in both hands with the scissors hanging from his first two fingers.  _"_ Look at _that,"_  he breathed, and smiled at Sergio.  _"_ Oh, it’s _beautiful._ So _healthy._ Ah, here, let me get out of your way. _"_  He sidestepped further down the table, chuckling _._ _“_ We should take a picture! Erika, _dear_ , would you like to see it? It’s really worth seeing _.”_

On the other end of the line, Marcus sobbed.

There it was. Right in front of Jake. His very own heart. It had to be a nightmare, right? And the darkness creeping into the corners of his vision was a sign he was going to wake up… right? His voice pattered on but no words could be distinguished as he began to pass out.

Then, something cold settled into his chest.

Something cold and  _writhing_.

Were he able to look into the mirror situated above him, Jake would have been able to see Sergio carefully place the slippery biomechanical organ into the hollow Luciano had created.  Instantly, the little tendrils and cilia began to move in concert, finding purchase, at last, to propel the heart deep into Jake’s body.  The personal assistant could make out the transplant creating new connections where the ones from his original heart had been severed; tiny teeth sawing and blood vessels fusing until, at last, the artificial heart began to beat - the little vessel filling with and pumping out Jake’s blood as if it had always been there.

Suspended between life and death while his new heart found purchase, Jake could only make whatever noises his body decided to make. His mind was elsewhere as the organ settled in, pushing and latching and biting into the warmth of his insides. There were flashes of images, mostly blurry figures and bright lights. They came and went as his mind fought to keep him alive, keep him focusing.

There were sounds like people murmuring secrets to him through pillows. He was able to pick out Marcus’ voice and he wondered if Marcus was here to save him. He wondered if the lights he was seeing were the flames of Marcus’ wrath. That would be nice.

There was a jolt and Jake gasped, his body lurching as far as his restrains would allow. Each heartbeat was stronger than the last, beating blood through his veins and making the world clear again. He gulped down air, groaning in between each breath. His heart hurt. It was beating too hard, like thunder, as if trying to assert itself as the dominant organ. As if that was even a thing that needed to happen.

It was probably the drugs talking.

“G-God!” he cried just before convulsing. His body was not taking the changes easily. The drugs couldn’t stop the twitching of his every muscle or the inconsistent flutter of his new heart. His eyes rolled back as he gasped, too weak and too numb to try and will himself to relax.

"Success!" Sergio said, clapping his hands together in delight.  "Erika, you _really_ must see this."

Peeling off his viscous gloves, Sergio snatched up the phone, turning on the video option, sparing a grin to the angel on the other end before turning the display to the man who lay opened on the operating table.

"Isn’t it beautiful?  And not at all subject to many of the ailments to which his old heart may have eventually succumbed.  I was telling Jake it’s the exact same model of heart that Daniel has.   _Very_  top of the line and such an excellent starting point for his conversion.  Why, when we’re all done, neither of you will technically exist in the sense most people consider.  What a pair you’ll make!  Although maybe with Jake’s help, we can convince some closed-minded naysayers that biomachines are no less worthy of personhood than would be others.”

Chuckling, he angled the phone to give Marcus a better view of their work.

"Then again, that’s just my business.  It’s all about changing  _hearts_  and  _minds._ ”

"Really need to get this on ice right away," Luciano muttered, stepping away for a moment with his pretty new metronome cradled in his hands.

The noise that crackled through the phone when the camera turned on was a distorted cross between an anguished sob and a cry of fury. There was heavy breathing, and then, “Jake.   _Jake_! Oh, god. No no no.” Another pained noise— “What have you done to him?! You fucking sick bastards—I’ll—you’re dead, I’ll kill you both, I’ll skin you for upholstery leather, That’s MY assistant, that’s MY— That’s— _my_ —”

"Now now," Luciano giggled as he stepped into the camera frame, waving with a bloody latex glove and a cheerful smile.  “ _Temper_ , Erika! watch your  _blood pressure_ ; at your age I’m sure you need to pay attention to that sort of thing.”  He stepped around the table and leaned in close to the PA’s face with a grin, peering down at his open chest cavity and the beautiful, beating, biomechanical heart displayed.  “Lucky for Jake, he never will. Isn’t that nice?”

Reaching up, Sergio placed the phone into the waiting claws of a biomechanical arm suspended from the ceiling.  They curled around the phone’s case, holding it in position for observation as the re-educator went to wash his hands.  Once properly cleansed, he returned and began the process of closing Jake back up again.

If Jake could speak, he’d be begging them to not sew him up. In his mind, he was shouting at them to not leave that terrible monster of an organ inside. The thought of that thing keeping him alive made him want nothing more than to die.  ‘ _Don’t leave that inside of me_ ,’ he was pleading, _'Replace my heart with an anvil, I don't care, just don't leave that thing inside._ '

"I don’t anticipate you’ll have any difficulty healing from this," Sergio reassured the PA.   "You’ll have the very best care."   He ran what looked like some sort of elaborate laser pointing device along the incision Luciano had made; the flesh and bone sealing up seamlessly in its path.

Humming some strangely familiar tune, Luciano stripped off his bloody gloves in exchange for a clean pair, taking up the opposite side of the operating table from his brother. He casts him an amused smile over Jake’s prone figure, before taking up a soft cloth and disinfectant, beginning to wash and sterilize where the incision was sealed up, ensuring that no infections would spoil the perfect procedure.

Once satisfied, he moved toward the monitors, still humming, to check on Jake’s vitals. He tugged his mask down and began to sing, just under the volume of the speaking voices in the room.

" _I’ve got you under my skin,_  
 _I’ve got you deep in the heart of me._  
 _So deep in my heart that you’re really a part of me…_ ”

"What do you want?" Marcus snarled, voice tight over the phone. "What do you  _want_? Why are you doing this—Money? A grudge?  _Give me back my fucking PA_!”

Looking to the phone, Sergio sighed and gave a shake of his head.   "Oh, Marcus, not everything has a dollar sign on it.   There is something to be said for scientific curiosity, and Jake makes an excellent candidate for the procedure.   From what I’ve seen he certainly has the right mindset; precise, calculating, detail-oriented, thoughtful.   He also has a commendable work ethic and patience to shame an oak if you’ve been his employer.   Heavens, I was half convinced he was a biomachine before even laying hands on him.  Although…if we’re speaking on matters of scientific inquiry…I certainly wouldn’t mind finding out what makes an _angel_ tick."

The other end of the phone was silent for a moment; Marcus was, no doubt, watching his assistant panting and twisting, presently helpless to be at his side. After a long pause, he spoke. “You want  _me_? Is that it? You’re gonna talk shit about how I treat people and then pull this? Using my PA who did _nothing_ to you, to get me to cooperate with your sick little—oh god _damnit_ , you fucked up Joker wannabe, _stop fucking singing_!”

Luciano barked a laugh offscreen, chuckling and shaking his head with a grin full of perfect white teeth.  "You know this one, don’t you, Sergio? What’s that line? ‘ _Don’t you know, you fool’…_ "

“… _You never can win!  Use your mentality, wake up to reality_ ,” Sergio supplied, smiling as he removed his mask.   Looking to the phone, he raised his brows as if scandalized.   ”Are you suggesting this is some form of mistreatment?   Marcus, did you know that heart disease is the _leading killer_ of men in this country?   We’ve just guaranteed that Jake will never have to worry about that.   When we’re done with his conversion, he’ll never have to worry about anything like that ever again.   After a good night’s rest, I think Jake will realize just how beneficial this all will be in the long run.”

"Don’t…" Jake said, voice hoarse and wavering. With his chest closed up and Luciano cleaning his skin, he finally stopped convulsing hard enough to shake the table. There were still shivers and the occasional jerking of a limb, but he could see. He could focus long enough to find the phone and to look into the camera and say, "Don’t, Marcus…"

' _Please_ ,' he mouthed.  ' _Please, please, don't._ '

Marcus sat on his bedroom floor, curled over his lap, his wings like golden wilted ferns spread over the expensive burgundy rug. He held his phone in both hands, staring down at the little screen that showed him the inside of a lab—that showed him Jake, the person he cared for most in the entire world (besides himself), suffering and afraid, and… not _human_ anymore.

How could he really be human anymore if he was being kept alive by a machine? Kept alive without a human heart?

The thought sickened him for two reasons, and the second reason was not something he was used to. It confused him and made his stomach twist into knots. He had just thought of Jake as less than a person. As a… a thing. And how could he think that?

He was such a bastard. He knew that. But he wasn’t used to feeling like one.

The billionaire wiped his wet eyes on the back of his hand, blinking blearily just in time to see Jake mouth those simple little words.  _Please don’t_.

But what else could he do? He couldn’t just let them turn Jake into more of a mindless machine. He had to save what was left of him. It was… it was his purpose, to protect, to fight. He felt it in the fire in his own beating heart. He felt a lot of things. He felt the surge of holy energy in his limbs; a righteous, searing fury that threatened to flicker flame over his feathers.

Humming thoughtfully, Sergio undid the restraints on his subject.

"Perhaps we’ll move on to the eyes next," the re-educator murmured to himself.   Tapping a button on an intercom, his cleared his throat.   "Daniel, could you come in here for a moment?   Jake’s all done and we need some help moving him to his room for recovery."   Patting the PA’s shoulder, he continued, "You should regain the ability to move voluntarily under your own power in about half an hour or so."

Turning his attention back to the camera, he met Marcus’ green eyes and smiled.

"If you want to come and lend me a hand with my research on angelic matters, that would be most courteous of you.   You could even visit with Jake, if you like.   Otherwise, I’d say…oh, he’ll be able to see you in about a month’s time; perhaps a few weeks more.   I don’t anticipate full conversion taking longer than that.   Ah, nanotechnology - father’s little helper.   It should make the process so much simpler."

Marcus grimaced. There was one thing he could still try, and it would have to start with a little white lie.

"… I’ll come see you," he snarled, "you Strex piece of shit. But you let me see Jake.  First thing. Aright? You let me see him _first_ , or I swear to myself that I’ll cremate you _and_   your pretty boy brother, and make sure you watch it happen.” his voice was dark, edged with a resonance that was not human.  " _You’ll both burn eventually, so help me_."

Jake whined as Marcus agreed to meet with them. It was a feeble little sound that didn’t bestow any justice on the frustration he felt. God damn Marcus and his stubbornness. Damn Marcus and his love for Jake.

Plucking the phone from the fingers of the semi-organic hand that had been holding it, Sergio looked into the billionaire’s face, still grinning.

"No need for threats, Erika.   Of course, I’ll let you see Jake!   Why, I think it would be just _wonderful_ if you were here for him every step of the way.   Watching his progress would be so informative; give you a chance to really get to know more about our biomechanics division.  And I think the time _we_ spend together will be informative.   StrexCorp has been ever so interested in studying angelic matters on a more scientific level for quite some time now."

He gave a thoughtful hum, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses before clearing his throat and looking back to Marcus.  ”Care to join me tomorrow morning for a bit of breakfast?  We can discuss matters then and I’ll let you see Mr. Lin.”

Marcus glowered darkly down at Sergio’s smug face, a black glow emanating from the edges of his sharp green iris. He could hear that scar-faced creep humming that stupid Sinatra song somewhere in the lab.

"Since my assistant’s not here to pencil you in, I’ll have to do it myself," he sneered. "Nine o’clock. Breakfast. Don’t find me, I’ll find you. And don’t put anything fragile on the table.” He bared his teeth, a third eye beginning to slit open on his forehead, a few other pock marks indicating where others were attempting to open in his neck and cheekbones. “Jake had better be the textbook definition of healthy when I see him tomorrow, or I’ll show you how threatening I can be.”

Marcus threw the phone into the wall, and the screen shattered, the device going dead. Whatever—like he didn’t have a spare iPhone 5. The only thing he couldn’t replace was his personal assistant.

 _No, no, goddamn fucking **no**_.

Jake swallowed his relief. He was happy that Marcus loved him enough to try and save him, that he’d be able to see him again, but Jake was a man of logic. It was more sensible for Marcus to protect himself and his assets. Where the hell would Night Vale be without at least one of them alive? It would be all too easy for StrexCorp to snatch up every last thing owned by Vansten without Marcus or his PA around.

Another piteous noise escaped him, head swimming, even as the door to the laboratory opened to allow another person entrance.

Daniel was nothing if not efficient.

He had been seriously anticipating such a project for some time now; consequentially, he was only too eager to drop what he was working on (paperwork for the studio, mostly), and make his way to Sergio’s lab to assist with the aftermath of his most recent operation. Questions surfaced in his head, data streams running over pre-existing information, comparing and contrasting what he knew and had yet to know.

How had it gone? What would the next steps be? Did he have a chance to interact with someone who would—sooner or later—be his other? He wondered what it would feel like, to not be the only one. To not be a systemic anomaly; a gift of chance. Even if the new biomachine was coming into such an existence from the other end…

He still wanted to see it happen.

About when the phone call ended, Daniel let himself into the lab, tapping in the passcode faster than humanly possible aned stepping inside; his faintly luminous blue eyes cast about only briefly as he moved forward, hovering on the prone body on the table before looking up. “Sir,” he said to Sergio, and then, “Mr. Silva,” with a nod and an automatic smile to the other scientist—back to Sergio. “You requested my assistance? Is—…”

Daniel’s insatiable curiosity got the better of him, and the biomachine in the sharp black suit stepped toward the table, staring at Jake. “…his heart?”

"His heart," Sergio confirmed with a nod.   "It’s the same as yours now.   Everything appears to have gone just fine."

 _The same_.

Those words resonated with Daniel in a way he could not express. Outwardly, there was no indication of such a reaction, except for his eyes—they seemed to brighten the faintest bit, synthetic lids drawn slightly higher. _His_ heart… was the _same_. Physically, he had something in common with Jake. It was new. It was… intriguing.

He liked it.

Daniel was professional; efficient.  While he certainly felt emotions, the producer was careful not to let them color his work.   While others might have found him somewhat difficult to read, Sergio had never had a problem discerning the moods and feelings of the biomechanical man.   To an outsider, Daniel’s reaction might have appeared subdued; restrained.   But to Sergio, it was as if his surrogate son was all but bursting with a melange of excitement, relief, hope, elation.  He nodded for Daniel to bring the recovering PA and follow him out of the lab.

Jake stared at Daniel, trying to understand the sensation of familiarity that overcame him. Even his voice was familiar. Jake murmured, “I know you…” without really noticing it. And what good did that do him? It wasn’t as though anything was going to change…

Sergio was given pause by Jake’s claim of familiarity.  He spared a quizzical glance to the biomechanical producer.  "Oh?"

Daniel picked the much smaller man up with very little difficulty, titanium framework having no reason to protest the weight. Leaving Luciano singing cheerfully while he cleaned up the lab, he moved to follow Sergio, nodding at his inquiry.

"Of course he does," he said. "I remember very clearly. I spoke to Mr. Lin about Mr. Vansten’s participation in the Mayoral Debate broadcast, quite some time ago. I did not expect we would come to have more in common than a few traded words." Daniel smiled, perfectly white teeth gleaming in the hall light. "I look forward to our continued shared experience."

Sergio found himself smiling at Daniel’s enthusiasm; his cheer infectious.   Who could blame the biomechanical man for being glad of this?   Soon he would no longer be alone in his existence - would have someone to whom he could relate in ways he never could before.   It was something so easily taken for granted by people who had come into being the way Sergio had. Daniel had always been alone; had never had anyone else like him.

Now he shared a heart with the man in his arms.

Presently they came to a hallway whose doors were more widely interspersed.   Selecting one, Sergio unlocked it with a passcode, opened the door, and revealed a rather sumptuous room within.   There was a double bed with a rich, tawny duvet heaped with snowy white pillows, heavy, goldenrod curtains, plush carpets with elaborate patterns favoring triangles spread over hardwood floors, a wooden wardrobe with golden inlay, a number of lamps with shades perforated in patterns to throw delicate shapes around the room like little fireflies.

"There’s a bathroom for you beyond that door," Sergio said, pointing.   "If you become hungry or if there’s anything you need, just use the intercom there and you will have your heart’s desire.   I’m afraid you won’t be able to leave this room until we deem otherwise, but you won’t want for anything."

Nodding to the bed, Sergio smiled to Daniel.

"Why don’t we get him tucked in?   He’s had a _long day_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A kind thank you to my co-authors, Zenami and TheMonsterGhost  
> Jake is portrayed by TheMonsterGhost and can be found roleplayed at: mrvanstensbitch.tumblr.com  
> Luciano Silva, Marcus, and Daniel are portrayed by Zenami and can be found roleplayed at: smilingindoctrinator.tumblr.com, marcusgoddamnvansten.tumblr.com, and synernist-supervisor.tumblr.com. Marcus and Daniel are canon WTNV characters, and Luciano Silva was created by Zenami as her Desert Bluffs Carlos  
> Sergio Vega belongs to EruditExperimenter and can be found portrayed at: eruditexperimenter.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> A kind thank you to my co-authors, Zenami and TheMonsterGhost  
> Jake is portrayed by TheMonsterGhost and can be found roleplayed at: mrvanstensbitch.tumblr.com  
> Luciano Silva, Marcus, and Daniel are portrayed by Zenami and can be found roleplayed at: smilingindoctrinator.tumblr.com, marcusgoddamnvansten.tumblr.com, and synernist-supervisor.tumblr.com. Marcus and Daniel are canon WTNV characters, and Luciano Silva was created by Zenami as her Desert Bluffs Carlos  
> Sergio Vega belongs to EruditExperimenter and can be found portrayed at: eruditexperimenter.tumblr.com


End file.
